


Doom of the Orc

by HolyPlasmaBall



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Námo pov, Unreliable Narrator, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyPlasmaBall/pseuds/HolyPlasmaBall
Summary: Namo witnesses his first fëar.
Kudos: 16





	Doom of the Orc

Doom had the likeness of a bone. Together they twined from fluid beginnings; mechanisms of flesh ossified to certainty; pillars of bearing which all else depended upon. Unbending they were, yet breakable, and as such in danger of strain by will. With meticulous care were they to be kept, and so it was Námo who took upon the task, as the warden of his kin.

It was in the days the Children would later call Years of the Trees that Námo was to find the first fëar. Guided by his foreknowledge he ventured far east to witness them. Deep in the stolen realm of Melkor his quest took him, for it was the fell usurper himself who had caused the fëar to part from their hröar. In the sleeping north Námo set his vigil and stood amid the forsaken wilderness he began to sing.

From the snow the fëar came to him, through the ice and the stone they welled, and at once Námo knew them unsound. Hideous he found them, and unlike their intended form. As earthworms they squirmed at his feet, in all ways at odds with his vision of the Firstborn, and were it not for their foretelling, he would not have known them as such.

In their essence they were inverted, and now thought the world perilous instead of just, and so they were made cruel. In this warped state morality was made meaningless, as was art and all manner of higher thought. Mindlessly they snatched and retreated, guided by the pendulum swing of their moods, from blind terror to craven desire, always pushed by desperation.

Beyond his sighting of the fëar no course of action was predestined, and so Námo stood and beheld them in dismay. A guardian was he, his task that of shield and rampart, and so uncertain of acting in matters unresolved. Manwë alone could be trusted to make such a choice, and in time Námo left back for Aman to seek the counsel of the King.

Thorough was his telling of the state of the fëar, and and at his words Manwë bristled as one wronged. If it was the atrocity itself, or the source of this evil which upset the King so, this Námo could not tell. Greatly affected was the King by the misdeeds of his brother, and so it was doomed that Manwë would yet err for his amity.

“Cunning is Melkor and learned in matters yet beyond our knowledge”, said Manwë. “Nay, I say. You must refuse these spirits from your keeping, for I have great fear of my brother’s clever devices, and to that mind this is but a ploy to poison your halls.”

And at these fated words the future grew taut, for in his deciding Manwë had made exact the beginning of the orc. Ere this moment had Námo known them, by means of the Music had he perceived them, and now at last was their place made known to him. Drawn and dismal would be their tale, and foreweary was he in his accepting of their charge. Yet such would be his toil, and with dread he spoke his deliverance.

“So it is doomed.”


End file.
